


Amongst The Stars

by martinslawyer



Series: Golden [2]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Martin needs a hug, Nightmares, They both do, inspired by a song, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martinslawyer/pseuds/martinslawyer
Summary: “Martín reached out his hand to feel for Mirko’s and ground himself, except he found nothing....There was only one place he’d be if he’d woken up from nightmares.”in which Martín finds Mirko after waking up from a nightmare, and they have a talk.
Relationships: Helsinki | Mirko Dragic/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: Golden [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829293
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	Amongst The Stars

Martín Berrote had never been good at handling the bad.

It was something he hated about himself, among many other things. He would lash out, drink, push people away, and exaggerate the persona he made to protect himself even more.

After Andrés rejected him, he had spiraled down so hard he couldn’t seem to pick himself off the ground or find a way out. He drank, and drank and drank, until the days blurred together in a haze of numbness.

He would always be thankful for Sergio for coming to him when he did, because in all honesty Martín didn’t know what he would do if he had been left to his own devices anymore. His ghosts trailed behind him wherever he went.

He would carry the ghosts of two people in particular for the rest of his life. He knew he’d never let them go, but at least he hoped he’d make peace with them.

Being torn from sleep with a gasp, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, and disoriented was something that happened quite regularly, but it always felt like the first time.

His body seized as sprang up and looked around in a panic, before reality started seeping back in, chasing away the wisps of the nightmare that wrenched him from his sleep.

Martín let his body fall back, head hitting the soft pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, willing his body to relax.

When he felt his breathing fall back into rhythm, he reached out his hand to feel for Mirko’s and ground himself, except he found nothing.

For a moment he panicked, thinking something had happened to him before remembering Mirko’s own ghosts.

There was only one place he’d be if he’d woken up from nightmares.

Martín got up and reached for his robe and slipped his arms in, tying it around his middle, before making his way to the porch, feet padding on the wooden floor cutting the silence of the night. He pushed the front door open, “Mirko?” he called before stepping out, barefoot, and finding the man in question sitting in his rocking chair on the porch.

“Martín.” Mirko breathed out his name like a prayer, “you too?”

Martín nodded and shuffled towards Mirko when the latter held his hand out to him. He climbed into Mirko’s lap, straddling him, put his arms on his chest, and buried his face in the crook of Mirko’s neck. Mirko’s massive arms surrounded him immediately, and he released a soft breath, feeling instantly safer between the arms of his beloved.

He took a shaky breath and melted into Mirko’s embrace.

“Who was it this time?” he mumbled against the soft skin of Mirko’s neck.

Mirko sighed despondently and rested his temple against Martín’s, “Oslo again.” He whispered and Martín felt his hands slightly shaking from where they lay against his back. He kissed Mirko’s neck softly and brought his arms up to wrap around his neck.

“You?” Mirko asked quietly, and Martín was quiet for a moment, debating whether to tell Mirko or not, when Mirko gave him a small encouraging squeeze. He never pushed Martín to say anything, and Martín was grateful for that more than Mirko could imagine.

Taking a deep breath, Martín decided that talking about these things made them slightly more bearable.

“Nairobi.” _His second ghost._

Mirko’s arms tightened around Martín momently before putting his hands on Martín’s shoulders and pushing him up, so that they were facing each other.

Martín couldn’t bear to look into his eyes, see the grief there. His own eyes stung and chest felt tight all of a sudden.

Mirko’s hand reached up and rested on his chin, pushing it up until Martín was forced to look into his eyes and found them shining like they were that day Martín stopped him from shooting Gandía.

A lump formed in his throat at the sight and his hands clenched the fabric of Mirko’s shirt tightly.

“I won’t say it wasn’t your fault and that you shouldn’t be holding onto your guilt because it’s not my place to, and it’s something that only you can work on.” His thumb caressed Martín’s chin, and he gave him a small sad smile, “but you need to know one thing: I won’t let you waste yourself on a guilt that isn’t yours to carry, my love.” He rested his forehead against Martín’s and sighed.

“what makes you seek me every time you wake up and don’t find me in bed?”

The sudden change of topic had Martín furrow his eyebrows in confusion and make a small questioning sound, tilting his head to the side like a bird. Mirko’s smile grew and he knocked his forehead against Martín’s once before pulling back and looking at him fully.

“i’m asking you, what makes you seek me out every single time you don’t find me in bed? Is it that you’re seeking comfort after your own nightmare?” he asked patiently, waiting for Martín to consider it, before continuing, “or is it because you worry about me and want to make sure that i’m alright?”

Martín looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“you forget I know you, Martín.” Mirko gently told him, “you can’t hide from me and try to pretend that you do everything for your own comfort.

Your heart betrays you, _Gatito._ You worry that my ghosts would drag me down like yours did once upon a time.”

Martín sniffed and looked at his hands. He felt Mirko’s lips on his forehead, pressing a light kiss there that left his skin tingling.

“I won’t let you fall, Martín. If you can’t count on anything, count on that, count on _me._ ”

Martín would have never pegged himself for a sentimental man, but by god did that Mirko make him feel things he never thought he’d feel. His hands started shaking and tears spilled freely down his cheeks. Mirko put one hand behind his head and the other around his shoulder and pressed him against his chest.

That night, Martín cried for the first time in months, under the cover of the stars.

he cried for Andrés. He cried for Nairobi. And most importantly, he cried for himself.

In the years before the heist he tried to end it all multiple times and failed.

He was bitter, and broken.

He cursed Sergio, and Andrés, for taking his life from him.

He would’ve been there til the bitter end, he would’ve died for Andrés.

But for Mirko?

Oh.

For Mirko, he would live.

“for you, i’ll try.” He whispered hoarsely against Mirko’s skin.

“that’s all i’m asking from you.” Replied Mirko.


End file.
